While yet, would we weigh our condition with care,
And be just to that Wisdom our follies which chastens,
We should see many blessings that fall to our share,
Though the crown of our wishes its advent ne'er hastens.
GOD denies in His love, and withholds what we seek,
In tender compassion, well knowing our blindness.
Let us yield, be submissive, and patient, and meek,
Adoring His mercy, and trusting His kindness.
This, this is our wisdom. Alone it deserves
The name of philosophy; nor can the science
Man proudly may boast, while as yet he but serves
His passions, afford for his woes an appliance.
This life is a trial. Our world cannot fill
The void of the heart, which too surely is boundless.
GOD will discipline, rectify, govern man's will,
And eternity show our complaining is groundless:
There, we may, when we know what we see here in part,
Life's philosophy prize, as we find it resulting
In bliss springing forth from a purified heart,
Without ceasing, in love, joy, and wonder exulting.
Why should we not, then, as life hurries away,
Submit us to GOD, and fall in with the measures
His Wisdom employs, from His paths lest we stray,
And fail to inherit His blood-purchased treasures?
January 30, 1847.
Basil.